


South Downs Advent

by MickyRC



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Christmas, Crack, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Holidays, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, Mistletoe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to The Nutcracker, Snow, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickyRC/pseuds/MickyRC
Summary: A collection of holiday ficlets using drawlight's advent calendar prompt on tumblr.  Basically 31 days of the husbands being cute during the holidays in the south downs.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Kudos: 23





	1. Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> It's an advent calendar! I love advent calendars! Thanks to drawlight for putting together this prompt list, it's gonna be a lot of fun.
> 
> Also, because I can't leave well enough alone, yeah, I do have another good omens advent calendar going. There's two. This one's basically all crack and fluff, but the other one gets a little heavier, so do with that what you will.

“This was a horrible idea.”

“Oh, hush, dear. You’re fine.”

Crowley looked down at him, incredulous. “Easy for you to say! You’ve got both feet on the ground!”

Aziraphale sighed and readjusted his grip on Crowley’s ankles. “Just—hurry up, then, if it bothers you so much.”

Crowley muttered something, but he turned back to the hook he was trying to screw into the ceiling. “There has _got_ to be a better way to do this,” was all Aziraphale could make out.

That just made the angel more indignant. “I _offered_ to miracle it up there, but you said—”

“No, that’s not what—ngk!”

“Careful, love!”

The demon standing on his shoulders glared down at him again. “I’m _being_ careful! You won’t stop moving!”

“I have not moved an _inch_.” That prompted an irritated growl, but Crowley started twisting the hook faster. “What _did_ you mean, then?”

“I meant that there’s gotta be an easier way for Anathema to get Newt to kiss her in public!

“Aha.”

“Right? Seriously, _mistletoe?_ Come on, Book Girl, you can do better than this!”

“She was very specific about how she wanted this to go, dearest.”

“Yeah but this is just—whoa, _whoa, angel!_ ”

“I’m not moving!” Crowley was practically clinging to the ceiling. “I’m—here, just let me—”

“No! She said no miracles involved, there will be no miracles involved.”

Aziraphale sighed. His demon could be so very single-minded. “Alright, alright. But I really don’t think it’s worth you breaking your neck over.”

Crowley had regained his balance enough to release the ceiling beam with one hand. “I’m fine. Just pass me the mistletoe and we’ll be done.” Nothing happened. He risked a look downwards. “Angel?”

But Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him. Instead, his gaze was pointed all the way across the living room, towards the side table, which was still covered in decorations they hadn’t put up yet. Including the bundle of mistletoe they were currently trying to hang.

“Oh for Hell’s sake, angel, really? Real _agh!_ ”

“Crowley!”

The crash didn’t quite shake the cottage, but it was a near thing.

“Oh! Oh, my dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale rushed to check on his demon, who had fallen face first into a pile of hastily materialized pillows. “Darling?”

Crowley didn’t even bother to lift his face from the pillow it had landed on. “She owes me. SO much alcohol.”

***

An ice pack and a lot of comfort later, they ended up curled together on the sofa. The mistletoe and the rest of the decorations were waiting for them on the table, but they still had a few days to finish up. Time enough to sit on the couch for a while, with Aziraphale’s fingers running through Crowley’s hair.

“You know, dear,” Aziraphale mused, “it’s rather cute how you and Anathema have been plotting this.”

Crowley grumbled, but didn’t move away. “So‘ve you seen the ring?”

Aziraphale hummed an assent. “She showed me last time we were over. Quite a nice design, it’ll look lovely on him.”

“I thought it was a bit much.”

“Dear, it’s a plain band with an engraving.”

“And he’s a plain, bland guy _without_ an engraving.”

“Hush,” Aziraphale tutted. “You’d better not be like that while they’re all here.”

“Nah, I’ll be nice,” Crowley promised, sitting up straighter and eying the pile of decorations yet to go up.

Aziraphale couldn’t resist leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek. “I know you will.”


	2. Snow

It was starting to get dark out. It got dark very early now, of course, it hadn’t been _that_ long yet. Not long enough to worry, certainly.

Aziraphale made another pass of the kitchen, walking to the tea cupboard, opening it, and then walking away again with a shake of his head. He was _not_ worried. There was no need for it. Crowley had only gone out to pick up some things from the grocery store. He’d probably gotten distracted by the poinsettias in the florists’, or some especially garish light display in someone’s garden. He hadn’t been gone long.

He stopped his pacing in the living room and leaned against the window frame. The snow had started before Crowley left, but it had barely been a flurry then, and now it was coming down in sheets. It would have been pretty, lit by the warm lights of the cottage against the purpling sky, but all Aziraphale could see was the road getting clogged and slippery with each passing minute.

“Oh, stop it, you old fool.” He made himself turn away from the glass and go back to the kitchen. This was _Crowley._ Crowley in the Bentley, no less. He could manage a little snow. He just needed to calm down and get on with it.

That didn’t stop him from running to the door when he saw headlights come up the driveway.

“Hey, sorry that took so long,” Crowley said as he came up the front steps, arms loaded down with plastic bags. “Stopped at the Chinese, some idiot double parked and blocked me in.” He tried to pass Aziraphale a big paper bag, but the angel already had his hands cupping his face, going in for a kiss. “Mph!” Crowley made a surprised noise, but then leaned into it, enjoying the warmth of Aziraphale’s hands and mouth. Eventually, though, the snow started to pile on his shoulders and the cold cut through. “Jeez, angel.” He smirked, pulling away. “I wasn’t gone _that_ long.”

Aziraphale blushed, and stepped out of the way so Crowley could come inside. “I know, dear. I’m just happy to see you.”

“Happy to see the Chinese, more like.” But Crowley was grinning as he peeled off his gloves and shook the snow off his hat. “You’d better be, at least, that parking lot was a nightmare. I’m never—ngk!” He was cut off by another kiss, this one slower and sweeter, and he let his chilled fingers curl into Aziraphale’s hair. He would be perfectly happy to stay there forever, an angel’s arms around his waist and a snowstorm raging outside. Maybe, if they were lucky, they’d be blocked in tomorrow. A whole day of cocoa and snuggling sounded wonderful.

When Aziraphale finally stopped kissing him, it was only to hold him tighter and rest his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Hey,” the demon said carefully, tilting Aziraphale’s shin so he could see his face. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” Aziraphale hummed into his neck, before standing up straight again. He pressed one more little kiss to Crowley’s cheek, then smiled at him fully. “I’m perfectly fine, dearest. Just happy you’re home.”


	3. Nutcracker

Crowley’s evening started with violins. _Violins._ That was just too much, right?

But when he glanced to his right, the view of Aziraphale’s profile in the fading houselights told him different. The angel’s face was wide eyed and grinning, and his hand was already tapping his knee in a mirror of the conductor’s baton.

Okay. He could deal with this. If it got too terribly boring, he could always just watch Aziraphale the whole show. Heaven, he could watch Aziraphale all night without getting tired. He knew, he’d done it.

“Ooh! Dear, dearest look!” And then there was a hand on his and Aziraphale was leaning close to point out the massive Christmas tree on the stage, like he could possibly miss it. It was too dim to see him clearly, but Crowley could see the wonder in his eyes, like this was the first time he’d seen anything like this. Like he’d never seen a ballet. Like he hadn’t been going to _this_ ballet every year since it first caught on.

The gleam of the stage lights reflected in his eyes was mesmerizing, though. And he still hadn’t moved his hand away, so Crowley flipped his own to lace their fingers together. Aziraphale didn’t smile at him, never once turned his eyes from the dancers on the stage, but he shifted to fit their hands together better and rubbed his thumb in a gentle line up and down Crowley’s.

Crowley couldn’t have said how long it was before the angel next to him gasped and tapped on his arm. “This bit here! This is what I was telling you about earlier!”

Reluctant to stop watching him, but wanting to enjoy anything his husband did, Crowley turned towards the stage. There were… giant… rats? That couldn’t be right. The soldier looking guy stage left made sense, at least, since the costume looked like a nutcracker which was, you know, supposedly the point. But… no, yeah, that was definitely supposed to be a rat, or a mouse or some kind of rodent like that. Interesting. Maybe he should have been paying attention.

That resolution went _right_ out the window a moment later, though, when Aziraphale sighed happily and leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder. Not for the first time, the demon sorely wished he wasn’t quite so bony. That collarbone of his couldn’t be a comfortable place for Aziraphale to rest his head.

But when he tried to subtly shift to give Aziraphale a better pillow, the angel reached across with his free hand to hold his arm still. Crowley swallowed, unable to take his eyes off the fingers wrapped loosely around his bicep. It wasn’t a possessive hold. Or needy, or show-offish. It was… what was it?

_It’s like when he kisses me in the morning,_ he realized. _Like how he plays with my hair on the couch while he’s reading. It’s like the way he makes me tea when he makes his own, ‘cause he forgets that I already had coffee and he just grabs two mugs automatically._

It was casual. It was gentle and loving, sure, but mostly it was just there. Always enjoyed, never taken for granted, and so wonderfully easy Crowley thought it might be the thing to finally break him.

He lowered his head and buried a kiss in Aziraphale’s hair. He hummed against his shoulder and lifted their linked hands to brush his lips against Crowley’s knuckles, his eyes never once leaving the stage. They didn’t need to. They knew each other too well for that. Because they had loved each other for millennia, and had been loving each other for years, and now they got to just be. To sit on the couch reading. To go see The Nutcracker together. To exist in the same space.

So pirouetting rats on the stage or not, Crowley wasn’t going to miss a moment of it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna join in the advent fun, [here's](https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/189391982184/drawlight-drawlight-aziraphale-crowley-for) the prompt calendar. You can also come talk to me on tumblr [over here!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/micky-r-c)


End file.
